


Dressing to Impress

by TajaReyul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: samhain_smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Het, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TajaReyul/pseuds/TajaReyul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Ministry's annual fancy-dress ball, Hermione dresses to get the attention of a certain dragonkeeper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dressing to Impress

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be for the 2014 Samhain Smut on LJ, but I didn't get it finished in time. I don't remember who left the prompt, but it was: "Costume choices for the party were motivated more by knowledge of another character's kink. What wouldn't you dress as for the person whose attention you wanted?"  
> I am indebted to stgulik for excellent beta services. Any remaining mistakes are my own.  
> Though it's not stated in the fic, the title is a reference to _The Dragonriders of Pern_ series by Anne McCaffrey.

Hermione looked at herself in the full length glass. _Perhaps this costume wasn't the wisest choice,_ she thought. The catsuit was fashioned to imitate a Romanian Longhorn's coloration, complete with horned headdress, and a tail that moved with the wearer's thoughts. The scale-patterned material hugged her every curve--a little too closely, in her opinion. She'd used an entire bottle of Sleekeazy's to tame her hair, and braided her tresses tight to her head. The mask that went with the costume covered her entire face except for her mouth and chin. Hopefully, Charlie Weasley's interest would be piqued before he realised she was his baby brother's ex. 

She'd developed quite the crush on him, that summer right before her fourth year, the summer of the Quidditch World Cup. He'd been so unlike the boys at school: all lean muscle and knowing smirks. She'd fallen for the way his fringe fell across his forehead, and oh, his clear blue eyes, not to mention the shiny, pink burn scars that he wore unashamedly. He had been quiet; quieter than Ron or the twins; quieter than Percy, even. Some might have thought him thick-headed for that, but even then, she'd seen the gleam of intelligence in his blue eyes.

After Death Eaters attacked the campsite, Hermione couldn't go back to sleep, and took a book with her to the living room of the tent. Charlie had been awake as well, and he offered her a cup of tea. They sat there, drinking their tea in companionable silence. When he'd cleaned up and was headed back to his bed, he put his large, warm hand on her shoulder for a moment and said, "Don't stay up too much longer, yeah?" and she'd nodded in reply, not able to come up with anything intelligent to say.

Now, here she was, a failed relationship with Ron behind her, feeling utterly bewildered by the dating scene. She only seemed to attract wizards who were serious about settling down (settling _her_ down), or wizards only interested in acquiring as many notches on their broom handles as possible. Perhaps Charlie would be the same way. Who even knew what went on in his head while he was fifteen hundred miles away most of the time? Hermione wanted the chance to find out for herself, though.

She squared her shoulders and entered the ballroom. The air of desperation that had existed those first few years after the war had eased considerably. The laughter didn't sound forced, and the waitstaff no longer rushed about with trays of drinks for people to take the edge off their nerves. Hermione circled the room slowly, accepting a glass of white wine on her way. She nodded to a few people, but didn't allow herself to be drawn into conversation. 

Finally, she caught sight of Charlie standing near one of the French doors that led onto the courtyard. He wore a grey domino and a simple black mask, and he looked as if he'd rather be anywhere but at this fancy dress ball. Though her heart tripped at the sight of him, Hermione decided to play it cool. She surveyed the throng, sipping her wine. Just as she was turning to walk back the way she'd come, a husky voice sent a shiver down her spine.

"That's a hell of a costume," Charlie said, appreciation colouring his tone.

"Thank you," she replied, pitching her voice somewhat lower than normal. She made her tail swipe lazily back and forth, hoping to distract him so he wouldn't recognize her.

"Care to dance?" he asked, holding out his hand.

She handed off her half-full glass to a passing waiter and wordlessly placed her hand in Charlie's. He led her into the waltz that had just begun. His blue eyes practically blazed. He didn't speak while they danced, which Hermione appreciated, because just like before, his touch robbed her of the ability to utter intelligent speech. Her head swam as they whirled about the floor. One dance became another, and then another. Hermione gently disengaged at the end of their third circuit of the ballroom.

"Don't go," said Charlie, and then his cheeks reddened as he seemed to realise how desperate he sounded.

"I'm not," she responded with a tiny smile. She took his hand and led him out into the night.

The courtyard was nearly deserted. The few revellers who did share the garden were occupied in the dark corners with their own affairs. They wouldn't be paying her and Charlie any mind.

"Who _are_ you?" he asked, reaching for her mask.

She caught his hand. "Not yet, Charlie."

He pulled his own mask off, and a puzzled frown settled over his face. "Sorry, do we know each other?"

"We do," she confirmed. "Are you going to waste the moonlight talking?"

"No, by Merlin, I am not." He grasped her chin firmly and tilted her head to avoid the points on her mask. Charlie's kiss was devastating. It was beyond anything Hermione dreamt it would be, stealing her breath and turning her knees to jelly. When he finally lifted his head to suck in a ragged breath, he said, "There no way I'd have forgotten a woman who kisses like that. Who are you?"

Hermione carefully removed her mask.

"H-Hermione? What the hell are you playing at? Ron--"

"--and I are no longer together."

He gave her a sceptical look. "Seems like Mum would have mentioned that in one of her weekly letters."

She sighed. "I think Molly is still holding onto the hope of Ron and me getting back together, even though it's been more than a year, but it's definitely over this time," she tacked on hastily.

He nodded slowly in acknowledgement. "So did you wear this costume especially for me?" A small smile played about his lips.

Her lips curved in response. "Yes. I was hoping to attract your attention."

He laughed. "I don't think there's any other costume you could have chosen that would have done that so completely. Now that you have my undivided attention, what are you going to do with it?"

"I have a few ideas, but none of them include hanging about a Ministry function. May I?" She grasped his biceps.

He rested his forehead against hers. "You don't even need to ask," he murmured.

Just as she Apparated them away, he ducked his head and captured her lips once more. When they popped back into existence in her bedroom, she shoved him away. "Why did you do that?" she cried, knocking her horned headdress off. "Don't you know how dangerous it is to distract someone when they're Apparating?"

Heedless of her anger, he stepped back into her personal space and put his hands on her waist. "I did it because I wanted to kiss you, my dear dragon, and what's life without a little danger?"

"I could have Splinched us both, or Apparated us high in the air, or into a wall!" Though still agitated, her hands came up to rest against his chest.

"Relax, Hermione. I trusted you to deliver us safely, and you did. Aren't we exactly where you wished us to be?"

"Not exactly," she muttered.

"No?" He glanced about with a bemused smile.

"I hoped that we'd get here eventually, but I was aiming for my lounge."

"A woman who wears a costume like that isn't one to waste time," he replied.

"I suppose this _is_ more efficient," she granted, sliding her hands up and around to tangle her fingers in the curls at his nape.

Another of his earth-shattering kisses left her head spinning, and Hermione barely noticed his hands searching for the hidden zip that ran the length of her spine. She shivered as she felt the cool kiss of air on her back, followed by the warmth of his impossibly large hands.

"Charlie," she murmured in soft protest.

"Your costume piqued my interest, but I want to see what's underneath it," he replied just as gently.

Was she really going to go through with this? Hermione asked herself. Her sex pulsed, swaying her mind, and she moved back to shed her dragon skin costume. She had to step out of her shoes to kick the clinging material off her legs, but she soon stood, clad only in tiny, black knickers, before the object of her teen crush.

For his part, Charlie stared at her like a starving man at a buffet. "Oh Hermione, how can one woman be so beautiful?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Does that line usually work?"

He went red at that. "I didn't exactly turn it over in my head to check how it would sound."

"That was much better. It's nice to know I have the same effect on you that you have on me."

His hands found her waist once more. "Do tell," he replied, grinning.

"You rob me of the ability to say anything more coherent than, 'Guh.'"

"Then I'm exceptionally proud that I managed a full sentence, made up of actual words."

"Hmm. I suspect you've had more experience with encounters of this sort than I."

"I must be doing something wrong. Every word of that was understandable."

"Perhaps a little less talking and a little more ki—mph." 

_Not thick-headed at all,_ was the last thought Hermione had for several long minutes.

Charlie backed her toward the bed and laid her down on it, never breaking the kiss. His hands travelled over her bare skin slowly, raising gooseflesh wherever they touched. He ran his hand down her thigh to hitch her knee up over his hip. Hermione could feel his erection pressing against her through the layers of fabric that separated them--layers she suddenly wanted gone.

"It's doesn't seem fair," she said when he let her catch her breath. "I'm nearly naked and you're still fully clothed."

"Easily remedied," Charlie said, reaching for his wand.

She laid her hand on his wrist. "Not like that, please."

"Sorry," he apologised, standing up. "Didn't want to waste time."

"I don't consider watching you strip a waste of time," Hermione said in what she hoped was a sultry tone.

"As the lady wishes," he said and began unbuttoning his domino. He dropped it to the floor to reveal that he wore nothing underneath. Kicking his dragon hide dress boots off, he crawled back on the bed.

"Socks too."

Charlie grumbled, but quickly doffed the offending garments. When Hermione slipped her thumbs under the waistband of her knickers, he stopped her. "I'd like to do that, if you don't mind."

"By all means."

He curled his fingers around the sides and snapped the elastic.

"Ouch, Charlie!"

"Aww. Don't fret. I'll kiss it better." He bent his head to match actions to words. His lips caressed the slight red marks he left, first one hip and then the other. Then he surprised her by placing a kiss on her mons. "Open for me, Hermione," he said, nuzzling her silky curls.

Obeying, she turned her knees out. He pushed her thighs wide apart, and she half expected him to dive right in. He didn't, though; he paused a moment, as if to look at her, spread out for him. Hermione knew how she must look: flushed and needy, wet and swollen.

Then he began licking, as if tasting her, first one inner thigh and then the other. Each delicate touch wound her arousal tighter as he avoided the spot where she wanted his attentions the most. She whined and tried shifting her hips to get him where she needed.

"Patience," he murmured.

"I've waited for this too long to be patient," she retorted, sitting up suddenly. "You called me 'dragon' earlier. Dragons don't beg. On your back," ordered Hermione.

Wisely he didn't argue, but stretched out on his back in the middle of her bed. Crawling over him, she took his cock in hand so she could slide down on it. She paused for a moment to savour the feeling of being filled again after so long, and then began moving. Charlie slid his hands up her torso to palm her breasts. She arched her back, pressing into his touch. He pinched her nipples, sending bolts of sensation to where they were joined. Hermione groaned. "Too much, Charlie. You're going to make me come too fast."

"Go ahead," he urged. "Come all over my cock."

"You're not giving me much choice," she panted.

"Aw," he mock pouted, but then his breath hitched, revealing that he was close to orgasm as well. "I thought you just took what you wanted, like a dragon. If you want me, take me," he challenged.

Hermione recognised the ploy even as she raised herself up an inch and then engulfed his cock, clamping down on it over and over. His eyes rolled back in his head as he grasped her hips and pushed up hard, as if trying to burrow deeper inside her. She felt his cock twitching as he unloaded into her. Temporarily spent, Hermione slumped forward to lay her head on his chest. She drifted off listening to his heartbeat slow from 'racing' to 'normal,' and woke again when he stirred.

"Oh," she half-sighed, rolling off him. "That went far quicker than I'd hoped, and I'm sorry for passing out on you."

"Don't be sorry. I liked knowing I shagged you into unconsciousness, and as for things going quicker than you'd hoped, the night is still young. Did you get what you wanted?"

"Mm, I got some of what I wanted. I wouldn't mind seconds, though."

He laughed softly as he rolled over and reached for her.

"I didn't mean right away! Don't you need, erm, time to recuperate?"

He glanced down at his rampant cock. "Less time than you'd think, apparently."

"All right then," she said and surrendered to his kiss.

It actually took a little longer because he insisted on freeing her hair from its tight braid. As it turned out, he liked her wild hair. 'Untameable,' he called it. Then there was no more time for any words other than 'yes' and 'like that' and 'again,' and later 'more' and 'harder.'

When Hermione finally caught her breath, she fought down her urge to over-analyse and merely asked, "Are you staying?"

Without opening his eyes, Charlie replied, "Mm. Got an early Portkey Tuesday."

"Fair enough," she said and pulled the duvet over the both of them.

"Breakfast?" Charlie asked.

"Too early. Brunch. I know a place."

For an answer, he looped his arm around her waist and pulled her into the curve of his body. She fell asleep thinking that though her costume might not have been the wisest choice, it had certainly been an effective one.


End file.
